


Primed for a Fight

by tess_genor



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Banter, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor/pseuds/tess_genor
Summary: JT adds the last drop of paint to the tray. “Alright. Do you know how to do this?””I’m not completely helpless, thank you.” Malcolm makes a show of reaching over JT to grab one of the rollers. “I don’t think that evenIcould mess up painting a wall.”JT steps back, folding his arms across his chest. Jutting his chin forward, he gives Malcolm a once over. “Go ahead.”
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Primed for a Fight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [literati42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/literati42/gifts).



> I hope your new place is everything that you need!!! Wishing you the best of luck and many great memories made there <3 I love ya

JT stares at Malcolm in horror.

”You want to paint the dining room _what_ color?”

”Seafoam green!” Malcolm bounds through the doorway and kisses his husband on the cheek. “It’ll match the silver chargers my mother got us.”

JT rolls his eyes. Bright always finds some way to keep him on his toes. Crossing the room, JT grunts as he bends down to pick up the two large paint cans that Malcolm left seated by the front door. “I swear, I don’t even know what you’re saying half the time.”

”Cut yourself some slack. You understand about sixty percent of what I say.” Malcolm winks at JT.

”Your skinny ass is paying for that.” JT calls from the kitchen. He’s grabbing the screwdriver to open the cans.

The two of them decided that they had enough of Malcolm’s apartment. They were ready to start their own life, outside of Jessica Whitly’s domain. Their first night in their new house was three days ago, and much to everyone’s surprise, Malcolm actually got some rest. JT and he had spent that whole day ripping out one of the walls, since the two of them were so accustomed to the open floor plan of Malcolm’s loft. The physicality of it all had wiped Malcolm out and left his brain numb enough to finally let the poor man catch up on sleep.

”I already pay for everything!” Malcolm calls back. It’s a long running joke between the two of them. JT insisted that they wait to buy a house until they could evenly contribute and Malcolm acquisted. He could never say no to JT.

”No way! you are not pulling the rich boy card tonight.” JT leans on the doorframe. In one hand is an opened can of paint. In the hand he has braced above his head are two sets of rollers.

Malcolm sticks his tongue out at JT and swipes the rollers from his hand. He sets them down on the table and the plastic sheet rustles under his movements. Normally, the sound would upset Malcolm. Cause flashbacks of medical table paper and girls under tarps, but not today. Nothing can harm Malcolm, not while JT is in his life.

”If you don’t like being showered with gifts I can always stop.” Leaning over the back of a chair, Malcolm dares JT to come up with something else snarky to say.

”Well, your love language is gift giving, I’d hate to take that away from you.” JT smooths out the plastic tarp on the floor with his foot. The first gift he ever got from Malcolm was a lollipop. He’d proposed to Malcolm by tying the ring to a lollipop. Lollipops have now come to be a small reminder of their love for each other.

”Will you just get over here and help me paint the damn walls?” Malcolm pouts. JT cradles his chin and squeezes his cheeks just the way he knows Malcolm can’t stand.

”Fine, but only because I know you can’t reach the top of the walls on your own and I refuse to have a sloppy paint job in my dining room.” JT laughs as Malcolm swats his arm.

”Oh yeah. I’d hate to see our dinner guests suffering through your delicious home cooked meal because of a wall.” Malcolm teases JT, watching as he pours the paint into the tray.

”Careful! Don’t spill any.” Malcolm rushes over to grab JT’s arm. “If it gets on the floor we won’t be able to get it off.”

”If you don’t relax, you’re gonna make me spill it.” Playfully shrugging Malcolm off, JT adds the last drop of paint to the tray. “Alright. Do you know how to do this?”

”I’m not completely helpless, thank you.” Malcolm makes a show of reaching over JT to grab one of the rollers. “I don’t think that even _I_ could mess up painting a wall.”

JT steps back, folding his arms across his chest. Jutting his chin forward, he gives Malcolm a once over. “Go ahead.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Malcolm drops to the floor. Squatting in front of the tray, he looks up at his husband with a smirk. It is just painting a wall. How hard could it be? Malcolm took the mandatory art classes in high school and even a few in college. You put the paint on the roller and then put the roller on the wall. The two of them will be done in no time.

”You waiting for me to tell you how to load up the roller?” JT tosses his roller into the air, it flips twice before landing back, perfectly squared in his palm.

”You really have no faith in me.” Malcolm rolls his eyes. He presses the roller into the pan and the plastic pops under the pressure. A few specks of paint fly up and land on the plastic sheet covering the floor. “Ah, okay, maybe a little lighter.”

”What’s the matter? Didn’t learn this at Harvard? I thought it was their mission to educate their students for society.” JT grabs the roller from Malcolm. In one swift motion he loads up the roller and hands it back.

”Didn’t exactly need to know how to paint a wall in order to understand psychopaths.” Malcolm walks up to the wall. He hesitantly places the roller chest level on the wall and waits for JT to join him.

”Well, that’s the difference between us. I know how to paint a house-”

”And I understand psychopaths?”

”I was going to say and you _are_ a psychopath, but yeah that works too.” JT winks and Malcolm snorts. It had taken a long time for Malcolm to make those jokes about himself and an even longer time for JT to feel comfortable making those jokes about his husband. Malcolm had reassured him that it was okay, but JT knew that deep down the jokes started as a way to cope. Still, he knows how far to push and Malcolm enjoys seeing JT worry about him.

”Rude.” Malcolm’s tone is harsh, but he’s smiling. JT releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Malcolm readjusts his grip on the roller. On second thought, he wraps his left hand around his right, in a similar technique to how he holds his throwing axes. He flexes his fingers, slightly nervous.

”Tougher than it looks.” JT places his roller on the wall.

”Oh my god, shut up, I can paint a wall.” Malcolm’s eyes widen as he shakes his head at JT.

Putting just enough pressure that he can feel the wall through the roller, Malcolm begins. He grits his teeth, he can _feel_ JT watching him, and pushes the roller upwards. He grips the handle tighter, and pulls it back down. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. The roller gently shakes in his hand. It looks like he’s almost out of paint, yet the wall is patchy.

”Don’t fucking say anything.” Malcolm grunts and drops the roller to his side. “How do you do it?”

”I’m sorry? I didn’t hear you that well.” JT exaggerates cupping his ear.

”Don’t make me beg.” Malcolm pouts. JT graces Malcolm’s cheek with his hand.

”Wouldn’t dream of it.” Nodding towards the wall, JT begins his demonstration. “The wall has little bumps and grooves, so you want to angle the roller a bit.”

Even with only one hand on the roller, it glides easily under JT’s direction. Each pass goes smoothly, with only minimal skips.

”You want to make little “v’s” or similar to a capital “N,” that’s how you get the best results.” JT winks at Malcolm, who blushes. Everyday he’s in awe of how well rounded this man is.

Malcolm adjusts his technique to fit what JT said. He can feel the difference immediately. The paint goes further and the coverage is much better. Grinning as he goes, Malcolm bumps shoulders with JT. Time goes by quickly, the two of them working out the perfect rhythm of who bends down for more paint when. Malcolm takes over doing the majority of the wall, leaving JT to line around the molding and clean up any spot Malcolm had difficulty with.

It’s domestic in a way that Malcolm never got to experience before. He’d seen it with the Arroyo’s, but it’s so much more fulfilling when you’re one of the people in love. JT doesn’t even need to say anything, Malcolm already knows what’s on his mind. It has nothing to do with Malcolm’s job, because JT can say the same thing about Malcolm.

JT only has the top of one wall left when Malcolm places his roller down and fakes a yawn.

”Oh boy. Painting that wall sure was hard work. I’m so glad I had a big, strong man like you, JT, to help me.” With his hand over his forehead, Malcolm sags, pretending to swoon.

Without warning, JT throws his hand out and rolls a long stripe of paint up Malcolm’s back. He doubles over with laughter as Malcolm’s shocked face twists over his shoulder, trying to see the damage JT has done.

”Oh my god, did you really just-”

”I did say that you were going to pay for that.” JT smirks.

”That’s it. Come here.” Malcolm lunges at JT. “You’re not getting away with that so easily.”

”Gotta catch me first!” JT shouts back. He races out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Malcolm is just one step behind. He’s closing the distance.

JT swerves, ducking Malcolm’s outstretched roller, and heads back to the kitchen. By the time Malcolm gets over his shock of how smooth JT’s maneuvering was, JT is back in the kitchen, facing the dining room.

”Ha gotcha!” Malcolm bonks JT with the roller. Confused as to why he didn’t get a reaction, Malcolm steps in front of him. JT points slowly and Malcolm follows the line of sight.

The nearly empty paint can lays toppled, the last bit of its contents laying across the plastic tarp. Malcolm breathes a sigh of relief that he and JT thought to put the lining down. JT shakes his head and lifts his right foot for Malcolm to see. Malcolm looks back and forth between the newly seafoam green sole of JT’s shoe and the corresponding prints around the house.

”Guess our next project is going to be ripping out the floors.” Malcolm falls into a fit of laughter. Relying to JT to hold him up, until he too is breathless.

”Looks like it.” JT dabs at his eyes.

”You know, none of this would’ve happened if you had just shown me how to paint walls in the first place.” Malcolm grins mischievously.

”Hell no. This is your fault. You’re the madman chasing me around with wet paint.” JT steps back and holds his hands up in a defensive position.

”Fine then it’s both of our faults.” Malcolm places his roller down. He raises his hands, palms open. “I surrender.”

JT grabs Malcolm’s hands, interlocking their fingers, and pulls Malcolm into his chest. Malcolm looks up into JT’s eyes and sees nothing but love. Despite all the skeletons in the closet, the monsters under the bed, and the spilled paint, JT loves him. Resting his head against JT’s chest, Malcolm’s breathing lines up with his. He can hear JT’s heart beat and it brings Malcolm comfort to know that JT’s heart beats for him, just as his heart beats for JT.


End file.
